Life Is A Lemon
by Dragongirl of the Stars
Summary: And I Want My Money Back. A Cave/Caroline - and anti-lemon - fic inspired by a song I found in my Dad's iTunes library. Prelude to the Lemon Rant. Rated for Cave's language.


**Life Is A Lemon**

...And I Want My Money Back. A Cave x Caroline oneshot, also serving as a lead-in to Cave Johnson's famous anti-lemon rant. Inspired by and based on a song I found in my dad's iTunes library, by Meat Loaf. I realize that 'lemon' in the song refers to the slang for a defective car, but naturally I use the line to suit my more Portal-related purposes. Parts of the dialogue are warped song lyrics, only the obvious one is copied directly. Note: This is a serious fic, not really humourous. Unless you like to laugh at other people's pain, of course. In which case, Go die, you lemon-loving jerk.

Find the full song here: www. youtube .com/watch?v=nEbTe1GBIIQ

Please enjoy. I don't own the song or the game. Or Cave Johnson. (sucks, huh?)

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><p>She found him in an office outside a gel-testing observation room, leaning back in a desk chair and staring up at a massive portrait on the wall.<p>

Caroline hestated in the doorway, watching him for a moment. He had aged beyond his years, his body given in to gravity and his hair turned a premature gray. His illness had not been kind, and it was only getting worse. He was becoming increasingly prone to violent mood swings - one minute he was barely cognisant of his surroundings, quiet and lost in his mind, and the next moment he was six feet across the room and shouting at the top of his lungs until he broke down in a fit of dry, painful coughing. The sickness usually subdued him until the cycle started again. Caroline would stay faithfully by his side through the worst of it, consoling him with painkillers and her prescence, but there was only so much one could do for a dying man.

She stepped into the room, treading across the tile floors as softly as her practical work heels allowed. She stopped as she reached his chair, gently rested a hand on his shoulder. She tried, "Sir?"

"You know we've been working together too long for you to still call me 'sir,' Caroline."

His quick response surprised her; he was more aware than she'd thought. A small smile alighted on her face.

"Of course, sir." But the familiar lightness of the joke elicited neither a smile nor a chuckle. Caroline's face fell as Cave's remained stoic.

"You know this place better than any damn employee that's ever set foot in this building," he continued seriously, eyes never leaving the enlarged photograph of himself and his assistant. "Even better than me. You could run this place, Caroline. Hell, you could do it all by yourself, without me or any of those pussy-faced scientists."

"Oh, no, sir - you know I couldn't do that." It was a feeble, pathetic, and utterly transparent contradiction. Caroline was more than aware of her handle on the infinite functions of Aperture Science. The more Cave's health deteriorated, the more work Caroline took from his hands without so much as a comment. She'd been managing budgets and paperwork and even testing for weeks now, without any need of guidance or assistance.

Cave pushed his chair back suddenly and tore from his seat, lurching violent away from his desk.

"Don't you _patronize _me, Caroline!" He was shouting now. "You and I both know you do more of my work than _I _do any more. You've forged my signature so many times you can do it better than _I _can. You've come far from organizing paperwork and bringing me coffee, and _I'm_ barely a whiff of the man I was when I started this place!" He leaned heavily on a countertop, his back to her. Caroline looked down at the ground guiltily, hands clasped behind her. She swallowed.

"I still organize your paperwork and bring you coffee, sir." As if it would comfort him. As if she could deny that what he was saying was truer than he could imagine.

"Caroline, you _do _my paperwork! I haven't laid my hands on a goddamn piece of paper in two months! I haven't -"

A terrible bought of coughs interrupted him, causing him to spasm and double over as he vainly attempted to shield his mouth in the crook of his arm. Caroline hurried over, wrenched open one of the many drawers in which she stored containers of water. She carefully helped him get some of it down, aiding his shaking hands as he drank. Then she pulled the desk chair across the floor and over to him; Cave all but collapsed into it, wheezing through his vitrifying lungs. He began to sober as his strength left him; his eyes were tired and angry, his face pale and sweaty with sickness.

"I'm a dying man, Caroline," he said, finally meeting her eye. "My life has been cheated from me. This company - it was always all or nothing for me. I gave it my all, and goddammit, it's given me nothing back. It was always something - money, test subjects, failed experiments - _something _always going wrong. It made me desparate, and I screwed up. I've ruined myself, Caroline. I've ruined this company."

Caroline swallowed hard, fingering the water bottle in her hands before offering it to him again, helping it to his lips.

"It's not over, sir," she told him quietly, admittedly feeling a little hurt by his words. "There's still so much work to be done, so much we have yet to do, so much we _can_ do. And sir, we've come so _far_, how can you say it's all been for nothing? Don't you have any _faith _in what you've created - in _me_?"

He turned away again, swivelling his chair to face the counter. He picked up a compact disc from a blank stack and turned it over in his hands, watching the distortion of his reflection.

"I'm done, Caroline," he said, sounding uncharacteristically introspective. "Whatever happens with this facility, it's no longer in my hands. I'm not going to be around very much longer. I'm no use to anyone any more. This life is a dead end street for me now. I have nowhere to go but where I'm already headed."

But then his faithful assistant watched as his body tensed - not with coughs, but with anger this time. "It isn't fair. It isn't _right_ - Caroline, I _took the lemons_. I took every opportunity I was given and I made the most of it, but what did I get? _Nothing!_ Not a damn _thing!_ It isn't right!"

Caroline leapt out of the way as he tore violently to his feet again and charged across the room, gesturing wildly with his aging hands.

"Damn the lemons, then! I'm done with them!" He slammed his fist on the desktop so hard that the computer monitor rattled, no doubt bruising his frail hand. "My _life_ is a _lemon_, Caroline, and I want my _money_ _back!_"

Then as quickly as it had come, his strength left him and he sagged against the desk, looking down at the disc still clutched in his hand. He gazed at it curiously, and Caroline could hardly have guessed what was going through his mind now. She stood in the corner, hands clutching the water bottle a little tighter than necessary, guilt and grief welling in her chest and in the pit of her stomach. She hated seeing him like this, but there was nothing to be done. There was no stopping him; there was never any stopping him.

"I need to be alone for a little while, Caroline," Cave spoke finally, and then said no more. After a moment the woman nodded curtly, and with the water bottle still in hand, she exited the office.

Cave remained standing at the desk for several minutes, staring down at the compact disc in his bruising hand. Then he lowered himself back into the desk chair and turned to the PA system. He flicked it on and cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts.

"Alright, I've been thinking..." He spoke into the microphone. "When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade."

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><p>FIN. :D<p> 


End file.
